


Close quarters

by ferggirl



Category: Once Upon a Time in Wonderland (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-02
Updated: 2014-01-02
Packaged: 2018-01-07 03:46:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1115098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ferggirl/pseuds/ferggirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alice and Will take shelter from a storm in a crowded inn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Close quarters

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Abbie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abbie/gifts).



> AU where instead of leaping into the water, Cyrus brings the whole castle down around Jafar and no one's sure what happened to him. But I don't talk about that because this is a Knave/Alice story, darn it.

"Explain this to me one more time, Alice?"

Will stood rooted in the small bunkroom. His wet clothes were dripping puddles onto the floor. There were six beds total, three stacks of twin bunkbeds. They were so damn  _small_.

"He’s full up, Will," she repeated, slowly and with more irritation. "What did you want me to do?"

"Convince him that we are bloody worth kicking someone else out for?"

"Hard to do when we’re supposed to be dead under Jafar’s ruined castle." She turned and surveyed the room herself, then set her bag, a pile of laundry, and weapons down on the one empty bunk in the back corner. "Would you rather wait out in the rain?"

Will scowled and glanced at the window. The storm that had chased them here was carrying on unabated. Alice sat on the edge of the bed and leaned over the floor to attack her hair, pulling out pins and working on untangling the sopping wet braid. 

"Of course I wouldn’t," he said finally. "I’ll just sleep on the bloody floor."

"No." Her answer was sharp, and he glanced at her to find her cheeks a bit red. 

Interesting.

"What do you mean, no?"

"We’re hiding, Will. Undercover. Whatever Cyrus did to that castle, we are supposed to be dead under it."

"I don’t see how this affects our sleeping arrangements," he said, wringing out his leather jacket.

Her words came out in a rush. “I told the innkeeper we were married.”

"Oh?" He’s not sure what to say to that. Married. To  _Alice_.

"I was trying to get a room to ourselves," she said with a groan. "And, a bigger bed."

"That worked well," he commented neutrally. His mind was stuck on the fact that there was a man in this building who thought that he was married to the girl sitting in front of him.

"Oh, it was horrible, because then all the other guests started reassuring me that you can fit two people in these and others would be doing it, and I had to tell them about how we met and apparently you’re a pig farmer, and I’m so sorry." She finished with her wet hair and pushed it back over her shoulder, biting her lip as she watched for his reaction.

"A pig farmer?"

"It just came out." She grimaced. "I didn’t want to say you were a thief."

"A pig farmer who’s married to you."

"You look a bit green," she said, standing up and taking a few steps toward him. "I didn’t mean for it to go that far. I just thought the innkeeper might find us a room."

He was quiet for a minute. He’d seen the panic on her face when that castle had crumbled, and he’d assumed it was for Cyrus. 

But it had been his name she’d screamed. It had been his hand she’d grabbed as they ran for shelter from the masonry falling from the sky.

And tonight he’d hold her in his arms - as a way to keep her on the bed of course - and pretend that she was his, for real.

Pig farmer was a small price to pay.

And wasn’t it funny, he thought, how different she was from Anastasia. Anastasia’s first thought would have been to impersonate someone important, to steal, to flatter her way to what she wanted. To lie about who he was and why she was with him.

Alice told people they were happy, she and her pig farmer.

"Will?"

He blinked and looked down at her.

"I’m not sleeping with all my wet clothes on," he warned.

"Neither am I!"

"That’s settled then."

When he reached for his shirt’s hem to pull it over his head she turned away, those red flags in her cheeks visible only for a moment. 

"The innkeeper gave us some extra clothing to wear while ours dries," she muttered, digging at the pile she’d laid on the bed. "So you can stop teasing me."

He took the shirt she held out, but tugs at her hand until she looks at him again. 

"Trust me, Alice," he said with a wink. "When I’m teasing you, you’ll know."

The air between them seemed heavy with an unnamed something, and then the door crashed open and a round bloke with ale on his breath wandered in. Alice winced.

"You lost, friend?" Will asked, straightening up.

"I’m in the bunk above yours," he hiccuped, attempting to move past Will to where Alice stood with her arms crossed.

"The lady needs a minute," Will said, spinning the sauced man back toward the door. "Have another drink. You’ll sleep better."

When their neighbor was safely out of the room, he crossed to the door and checked for a lock. There was none, so he leaned against it, the shirt in his hand.

She was staring at him. More specifically, at his chest.

"Problem?" He grinned when she started and dragged her eyes back up to his face. So she wanted teasing?

"No! No. Only, I could have told him to leave myself."

"Of course you could," he agreed. "But as your pig farming husband, I get the privilege of escorting drunken sots away from your fair form."

"Just close your eyes and guard the door," she grumbled. 

He obeyed at least one of those commands.

******

A few hours later, full of ale and meat pie and all the good humor of a simple pig farmer he could muster, Will grabbed Alice’s hand and winked at her. 

"Ready, wife?"

A few of the men at their table winked and whistled. He could feel her stiffen and ran a calming hand up her arm, leaning in to whisper, “Let’s not kill the irritating men until after we’ve had a bit of sleep, yes?”

She nodded and set off, leading him by their linked hands. It gave him the chance to appreciate the way the borrowed dress hugged her slim curves. She looked soft and happy as a pig farmer’s wife.

Alice made to drop his hand on the stairs, but he tugged her over to him, knowing full well the dangers of dropping an act too soon. He slung an arm around her waist and nuzzled her hair as one of the serving maids came around the corner.

Several of the guests had already gone to their beds, so they tiptoed through the room. It was dark, but Will still held his jacket up as Alice unlaced her dress and slid into bed.

He was less concerned about his own modesty. That had to do, in part, with the way she was watching him, her mouth slightly open and her eyes both bright and sleepy.

He stripped down to his boxers and climbed into bed next to her. She tried, for a few minutes, to lie on the far edge, straight on her side, not touching him.

She was so stiff and uncomfortable, though, that he took pity on her.

"Alice," he murmured, reaching over and laying a hand on her tense shoulder. "It’s all right, we’re just going to have to get a bit cozy."

Someone in the room hissed “shhhhhh” and Will waved a middle finger in their direction. Alice hadn’t moved.

"Come on then, darling," he used the pet name he’d been calling her all night. "Roll over here."

She turned to look at him, and the moonlight fell across her face, showing her uncertainty.

He waited another minute, watching her adjust her position at a snail’s pace, coming closer to him but still not touching.

"I don’t have fleas, you know," he hissed.

"It’s just very…  _intimate_ ,” she hissed back.

"Bloody hell." He reached over and hooked an arm under her waist, pulling her the final few inches until she was flush against his body. Her bare legs tangled with his, and her hair was cool and damp against his arm. He shifted to the left, taking up most of the skinny mattress himself and settling her half on top of him.

"Just go to sleep," he said. 

She was quiet, and the room filled again with the grunts and snoring of the other bed occupants. 

Will waited until she relaxed against him, a sure sign that sleep was pulling her under. Then he let himself run his fingertips gently up and down her arm. 

He closed his eyes and pretended, just for a moment, that this was it. That they really were travelers, just passing through, married pig farmers with no genie to save or Queen to thwart. 

Just him and Alice. 

He woke the next morning to find her back against his chest, her hand laced through his and his face buried in her hair. 

It was another 45 minutes before she stirred. Will didn’t move a muscle.


End file.
